Looking at long range forecasts as autumn arrived, I saw what had become a familiar profile for northern New England: above average temperatures, with an equal chance of above average, normal, or below average precipitation.
Precipitation is the hardest to nail down, followed by specific temperature. Everyone laughs at the weather forecaster, or complains about inaccurate information. A lot of variables influence the amount and type of precipitation. This is much more true when the temperature fluctuates above and below freezing. Long term averages behave more tractably. All you need is the trend.
As the actual season grew nearer, the shorter long term projections turned colder and wetter. This seemed to track with the La Nina situation in the Pacific, and the injection of volcanic dust into the upper atmosphere. Those had been ingredients for serious cold in the past. Now, superimposed on the overall warming trend, their influences seem restrained. The cold has not been as deep, for as long, and precipitation type covers a range that includes rain much more of the time. Even when storms stay all snow, it is wet, clumpy snow.
The phenomenon popularly called the Polar Vortex has become unstable, shifting so that bitter cold can drop in and hang around, particularly late in the winter when people might be looking forward to busting out into the growing sunshine. This is especially true of cyclists who may have some serious trainer fatigue, or be looking forward to using the car less, and the bike more. Completely car-free citizens will really welcome more benign conditions.
A rider who has taken advantage of winter conditions that allow for cross-training may have trouble finding them. Cross-country skiing doesn't require deep snow if there's smooth ground to hold a few inches on which to slither. Then you just have to find the time to get there on a regular basis. Runners adapt in various ways, to continue their program through snow and ice. At shallow snow depths, these user groups may be sharing space.
One winter, when I still lived in Maryland, I went out on a fresh snowfall of about five inches. You could enter the Naval Academy grounds quite freely then, so I skied from my neighborhood to the Academy, where they have a lot of well-mowed grassy fields and lawns. As I slid across one smooth, white parade ground, I noticed a runner high-stepping through the white stuff on a roughly parallel course. Without directly acknowledging each other, we each tried to make sure that we did not look like the silly one. I came out the winner by a slim margin.
Proper ski conditions were rare in tidewater Maryland. In New England I expected that they would occur more regularly. That was somewhat true. It's significant that the indigenous people of North America invented the frame-and-lacing snowshoe rather than the sliding boards devised by the natives of Asia and northern Europe. Terrain and snow type here initially favored the snowshoe. Skis immigrated here with Europeans and have needed help to assimilate. The most popular form requires constructed facilities and uses machine power to carry sliders to the top of a hill. Cross-country skiing became a sideshow.
When I started working in the ski and bike business, it was a good way to be a professional athlete of sorts. It enhanced the business if I rode a lot and skied a lot. I was never the kind of uber-consumer that industries love, so I always had a frugal angle, but as gear improved I could help customers justify the purchase of it, and help them keep it operating, because I had tried it out myself. The conveyor belts got out of control in both ski and bike industries as the century turned. It's gotten harder to find good long-term investments in equipment, but it's not impossible. The growing trend toward a less throwaway society helps. We'll see how long it takes industry to notice and accept it rather than try to undermine it.
Because the basis of my riding was commuting and transportation, I look for ways to escape from the constant financial drain represented by car culture and consumerist entertainment. The lifeblood of an economy is cash flow, but you can't flow what you don't have.
Tuning and maintaining the human engine calls for balanced use. Pure cycling does not provide that. In pure bike commuting season I miss regular opportunities to walk. My commute is long enough to take up all the slack time in my day and then some. I used to change to a mix of activities in the fall and winter, but those have gotten harder to piece together as I have less energy overall. Opportunities to ski on workdays have vanished. At either end of the work day, conditions are often unsatisfactory or even downright dangerous, as temperatures rise above freezing during the day and set up hard at sunset. Indoor training seems convenient, but you have to set up, suit up, and clean up, turning a scanty half-hour workout into a full hour project. Subtract that hour from the necessary routines of meal preparation, housekeeping, and transportation. And you still need to stretch. Every option costs money and time.
Back in 1979, I set out to see how good a life a person could have on a modest income. This meant eating well, getting beneficial exercise, and enjoying some sort of intellectual stimulation and creative outlet. Eating well does not mean gorging on rich food It means being tastily but properly nourished based on whatever you can learn about what those terms mean. My financial status, tenuous and doomed as it is, is still better than it was when I started. In 1979, I would have been jacked to get $5 an hour, and could barely imagine the wealth of $10. I nursed the fantasy that I would produce creative works that would earn me more money to finance some travel and greater adventures, but the quest was never a straight-up pursuit of money for the sake of money. It was about a balanced life that anyone could achieve.
Of course anyone can live a balanced life, if one accepts an early death. Old age is expensive. But what do you do if you fail to kill yourself in pursuit of your dreams? Then you have to choose a voluntary death based on your principles and your taste. With a normal human predilection to survive, it's hard to kill yourself outright, even if you know it's the best thing for the species and the economy. And a lot of the shortcuts, like cancer and other diseases, are painful and creepy and sad, as you feel your body rot out from within while parts of it are still vibrant and viable. How do you know when you've had the last piece of fun you will ever have, and that this is the perfect time to leave?
Thoughts like this make hitting the weight bench and jumping on the treadmill seem pretty pointless and stupid. We're constantly shown propaganda that makes us question whether we deserve to live. If you're not working three jobs and filling every day with either billable hours or transit time from one job to the next, you're a slacker and a drain on society. In the anthill or the beehive, you work until you die. They don't have weekends and vacation. They have jobs. Even cartoonists brag about their workaholic habits. Partly they make a virtue of necessity, constantly producing work and sending it around because the returns tend to be small compared to the time invested. Take a vacation and some other scribbler will get one of the dwindling number of paying gigs.
The arts in general work on slim margins. Musicians have to practice to remain good. Visual artists have to make the art. Writers spend hours alone, going nuts in ways that they hope readers will enjoy. Performers need something to perform, an audience, and a venue. When work is commissioned, you have a payoff to look forward to...or an advance you've already spent. Otherwise, it's all on spec.
It's snowing steadily right now. I have go out and get a few thousand steps while I can. It's medicine.
Showing posts with label indoor training. Show all posts
Showing posts with label indoor training. Show all posts
Monday, December 18, 2017
Friday, January 16, 2015
Exercise is a drug
This is not news to a lot of you: exercise acts like an antidepressant and stress reliever. Those of us who have experimented with a variety of forms of self medication will have figured out that exercise needs to be managed like a drug.
Setting aside the addictive substances famous for monopolizing users' lives, your lifestyle enhancers, legal and illegal, all create a cushion effect in which the user requires more of whatever it is to reach the desired level of whatever you're going for, whether it's mellow relaxation or euphoric energy.
Coincidentally, exercise can provide both of those, whereas most mere substances specialize in one part of the energy spectrum. But I digress.
The experienced user will know that occasional periods of abstinence improve the effect of "the stuff" when its use is resumed. In training we call these abstinence periods "rest days." Yep. You're just managing your habit so you get more high on less stuff. At the same time, hard-core exercisers may be using other substances to improve their performance, particularly if they've been sucked into the competitive side. That complicates their equation, but it need not complicate yours. Racing is the best way to turn any fun activity into a neurosis. A little is educational. A lot can make you delusional.
When I first took up the 30-mile commuting day I would ride 50-80 at least one day a week and try to mix up the pace a bit on other days to make 30 seem shorter. I don't remember when I ate and slept. I know I did. I had been a racer, so devotion to distance seemed normal. If you want to ride more, ride more.
When long and longer rides don't fit the schedule, you have to shorten some days. The Schedule has a way of eating away riding time. As long as the habitual exerciser maintains the basal level necessary to function, the mind and body absorb the fluctuations. And when circumstances taper riding down to zero, the gradual process takes care of detox and withdrawal. Or so it seems.
Schedule and circumstances brought me to zero a month and a half ago. Once you reach zero it's really easy to go a day at a time through weeks and weeks. The thing that got me into transportation cycling in the first place was the knowledge that if you don't put exertion right in front of yourself, between you and whatever you want next, you'll probably walk past it. Or more likely drive past it.
Have you ever been so completely exhausted that you could feel the energy you get from every breath and feel it leave you with every exhalation? You will only reach that point if you have to stay awake for some compelling reason. In my case it was usually a road trip. Back when gas was cheap and hotel rooms were dear, and I had no money anyway, I would drive straight through to wherever I was going, whether it was four hours away or 24. If I absolutely couldn't go on I would pull off and sleep in the car for a while.
Hotel rooms are still expensive. I hate shelling out for what's basically just a bed and a bathroom I'll use for eight hours or less. I can sleep as well in my car as I can in some overpriced roadside fleabag. At least in my car I know who raised the fleas. But I digress again.
A body habituated to exercise, that has been deprived of it to where real deterioration has set in, will react to the faintest breath of it the way that exhausted driver does, rousing on the inhale and nodding off again on the exhale.
My ordinary activities do require a certain amount of exertion in the winter. I have to split some firewood nearly every day, and carry loads of it twice a day. When snow falls I have to shovel, sweep and snowblow it from the area around the house and garage. But that never creates the sustained rhythm that generates the surge of well-being you get from regular riding, running, walking or cross-country skiing.
On Thursday I had a Dutch three-speed on the stand. I was running the Sachs Torpedo hub through its gears and laughing over the name "Sachs Torpedo." Wanna see my Sachs Torpedo? It does not provide a handy adjustment window like a Sturmey Archer or Shimano hub. You have to go by more subtle indicators. Sheldon Brown and Sutherland's were my guide.
Because the parking lot was finally clear and the weather was reasonably mild, I could take the bike out for a test ride. When I muckled onto it to left it down from the stand, the erector muscles on either side of my spine clamped down in a spasm. The wages of inactivity. I set the bike down without dropping it and dropped into a couple of stretches to relax the knots. Once the pain settled down to a dull ache and spread across my whole back I carried the bike down to do the test ride. When I came back in I ran through the warmup exercises from a tai chi class I took years ago. I don't remember anything else, but the warmup set loosens up arms, back and shoulders really well.
At home that night I lay on the living room floor to do some deeper stretches. I used to stretch a lot. While no one would be impressed with my contortions compared to a real professional human pretzel, I did have pretty good flexibility. Not anymore. But I did manage to roll and unroll my spine a few times and then run through another set of tai chi warmups. The feeling afterward compared closely to the way I would feel after a much more vigorous workout and longer stretching session back when I did those several times a week instead of a few times a year.
A body that had never exercised, or never been pushed to the high-intensity dilettante level that I used to maintain would not have gotten the same bounce. One thing you learn about getting high is to recognize the symptoms of being high.
A little does not go a long way. The lift is palpable, but brief, barely longer than the lift of a single breath in that deep exhaustion I talked about. If I don't get some sort of routine going I will fall further and further into the pit of lard, lethargy and despair that is modern industrialized life. Enough time passes and even the hack athlete forgets what power lies within. Even longer and the power itself is essentially gone. We all lose it eventually, but you can give it up much sooner.
Setting aside the addictive substances famous for monopolizing users' lives, your lifestyle enhancers, legal and illegal, all create a cushion effect in which the user requires more of whatever it is to reach the desired level of whatever you're going for, whether it's mellow relaxation or euphoric energy.
Coincidentally, exercise can provide both of those, whereas most mere substances specialize in one part of the energy spectrum. But I digress.
The experienced user will know that occasional periods of abstinence improve the effect of "the stuff" when its use is resumed. In training we call these abstinence periods "rest days." Yep. You're just managing your habit so you get more high on less stuff. At the same time, hard-core exercisers may be using other substances to improve their performance, particularly if they've been sucked into the competitive side. That complicates their equation, but it need not complicate yours. Racing is the best way to turn any fun activity into a neurosis. A little is educational. A lot can make you delusional.
When I first took up the 30-mile commuting day I would ride 50-80 at least one day a week and try to mix up the pace a bit on other days to make 30 seem shorter. I don't remember when I ate and slept. I know I did. I had been a racer, so devotion to distance seemed normal. If you want to ride more, ride more.
When long and longer rides don't fit the schedule, you have to shorten some days. The Schedule has a way of eating away riding time. As long as the habitual exerciser maintains the basal level necessary to function, the mind and body absorb the fluctuations. And when circumstances taper riding down to zero, the gradual process takes care of detox and withdrawal. Or so it seems.
Schedule and circumstances brought me to zero a month and a half ago. Once you reach zero it's really easy to go a day at a time through weeks and weeks. The thing that got me into transportation cycling in the first place was the knowledge that if you don't put exertion right in front of yourself, between you and whatever you want next, you'll probably walk past it. Or more likely drive past it.
Have you ever been so completely exhausted that you could feel the energy you get from every breath and feel it leave you with every exhalation? You will only reach that point if you have to stay awake for some compelling reason. In my case it was usually a road trip. Back when gas was cheap and hotel rooms were dear, and I had no money anyway, I would drive straight through to wherever I was going, whether it was four hours away or 24. If I absolutely couldn't go on I would pull off and sleep in the car for a while.
Hotel rooms are still expensive. I hate shelling out for what's basically just a bed and a bathroom I'll use for eight hours or less. I can sleep as well in my car as I can in some overpriced roadside fleabag. At least in my car I know who raised the fleas. But I digress again.
A body habituated to exercise, that has been deprived of it to where real deterioration has set in, will react to the faintest breath of it the way that exhausted driver does, rousing on the inhale and nodding off again on the exhale.
My ordinary activities do require a certain amount of exertion in the winter. I have to split some firewood nearly every day, and carry loads of it twice a day. When snow falls I have to shovel, sweep and snowblow it from the area around the house and garage. But that never creates the sustained rhythm that generates the surge of well-being you get from regular riding, running, walking or cross-country skiing.
On Thursday I had a Dutch three-speed on the stand. I was running the Sachs Torpedo hub through its gears and laughing over the name "Sachs Torpedo." Wanna see my Sachs Torpedo? It does not provide a handy adjustment window like a Sturmey Archer or Shimano hub. You have to go by more subtle indicators. Sheldon Brown and Sutherland's were my guide.
Because the parking lot was finally clear and the weather was reasonably mild, I could take the bike out for a test ride. When I muckled onto it to left it down from the stand, the erector muscles on either side of my spine clamped down in a spasm. The wages of inactivity. I set the bike down without dropping it and dropped into a couple of stretches to relax the knots. Once the pain settled down to a dull ache and spread across my whole back I carried the bike down to do the test ride. When I came back in I ran through the warmup exercises from a tai chi class I took years ago. I don't remember anything else, but the warmup set loosens up arms, back and shoulders really well.
At home that night I lay on the living room floor to do some deeper stretches. I used to stretch a lot. While no one would be impressed with my contortions compared to a real professional human pretzel, I did have pretty good flexibility. Not anymore. But I did manage to roll and unroll my spine a few times and then run through another set of tai chi warmups. The feeling afterward compared closely to the way I would feel after a much more vigorous workout and longer stretching session back when I did those several times a week instead of a few times a year.
A body that had never exercised, or never been pushed to the high-intensity dilettante level that I used to maintain would not have gotten the same bounce. One thing you learn about getting high is to recognize the symptoms of being high.
A little does not go a long way. The lift is palpable, but brief, barely longer than the lift of a single breath in that deep exhaustion I talked about. If I don't get some sort of routine going I will fall further and further into the pit of lard, lethargy and despair that is modern industrialized life. Enough time passes and even the hack athlete forgets what power lies within. Even longer and the power itself is essentially gone. We all lose it eventually, but you can give it up much sooner.
Monday, March 03, 2014
Commuting Season Fast Approaching
Bike commuting season never ends for some lucky or absurdly dedicated riders, but I would venture to say that the majority of riders in regions where winter conditions bring a halt to the easier riding conditions for at least a short time have to or want to hang up the bike for a while. This winter that would include most of the country.
My own routine purposely included a shift to snow-related activities. It was a relief not only to use my body a little differently but also to get around without the sudden intrusion of someone's hostile opinion. I don't ski on snowmobile trails because I don't want to think about motor vehicles when I don't have to.
As snow-related activities have faced various challenges the routine has taken a beating. But this winter factors combined to bring somewhat regular cross-country skiing back into the mix early in February. It was not quite enough to make up for the loss of bike commuting, but at least it helps lay down a base so I'm not coming straight off the couch and car seat right into 30-mile riding days. And it underscores the effectiveness of moderate aerobic exercise as an antidepressant.
If I could figure out how to commute on cross-country skis I would do it. I've said many times and will repeat it often: exercise in commuting time is the perfect combination. You have to be going to or from work anyway. There's no way to salvage driving time. You shouldn't be doing most of the things people to do to try to combine driving with social or work-related communication. So you might as well be getting that beneficial exercise. Then when you get where you're going, work or home, you're ready to do whatever needs to be done there, whether it's work or fun. But I can't ski from home or from my park-and-ride starting point. So it becomes a bit of a luxury, something to fit in around more pressing responsibilities.
I do recommend cross-country skiing to anyone who can manage to arrange it. It provides the best full-body conditioning, much better than bicycling. Not only will you come out of it with a very usable physique, it also cranks up your metabolism enough to let you turn the thermostat down in your house a bit to save on heating expenses. Try it. You'll be amazed. Any physical activity does that to some extent, but I feel the warmth from skiing for hours.
Winter seems like a massive, unstoppable force this year, but of course it's not. So anyone who likes to use cross-country skiing as a winter program needs alternatives. These include hiking and running -- with or without snowshoes depending on conditions -- indoor spinning, weight training, swimming, running up and down stairwells, various exercise machines, drinking and bitching. Really vigorous bitching, particularly if you get up and pace around, can burn some calories and get your heart rate up more than just sitting around moping. And if you keep your beer in a fridge on a different floor or at least as far as possible from where you consume it you will get some exercise going back for a refill.
Obviously if you are below legal drinking age or otherwise disqualified from participating you will have to work around that. I'm only tossing out suggestions.
Whatever March does, Daylight Relocating Time kicks in this Sunday, shifting usable daylight later in the day. This would allow bike commuting right away. But I want a little saddle time before I charge right into the whole route. And icebergs line the roadway on most of my route, seriously limiting my options when dealing with early-season motorists who have happily forgotten what a cyclist looks like. In the best of years there's always a little friction as I retrain them. I prefer not to be dealing with narrowed, icy roads and my own lack of fitness while smacking down fractious drivers. But we're getting there. Regular riding will return.
My own routine purposely included a shift to snow-related activities. It was a relief not only to use my body a little differently but also to get around without the sudden intrusion of someone's hostile opinion. I don't ski on snowmobile trails because I don't want to think about motor vehicles when I don't have to.
As snow-related activities have faced various challenges the routine has taken a beating. But this winter factors combined to bring somewhat regular cross-country skiing back into the mix early in February. It was not quite enough to make up for the loss of bike commuting, but at least it helps lay down a base so I'm not coming straight off the couch and car seat right into 30-mile riding days. And it underscores the effectiveness of moderate aerobic exercise as an antidepressant.
If I could figure out how to commute on cross-country skis I would do it. I've said many times and will repeat it often: exercise in commuting time is the perfect combination. You have to be going to or from work anyway. There's no way to salvage driving time. You shouldn't be doing most of the things people to do to try to combine driving with social or work-related communication. So you might as well be getting that beneficial exercise. Then when you get where you're going, work or home, you're ready to do whatever needs to be done there, whether it's work or fun. But I can't ski from home or from my park-and-ride starting point. So it becomes a bit of a luxury, something to fit in around more pressing responsibilities.
I do recommend cross-country skiing to anyone who can manage to arrange it. It provides the best full-body conditioning, much better than bicycling. Not only will you come out of it with a very usable physique, it also cranks up your metabolism enough to let you turn the thermostat down in your house a bit to save on heating expenses. Try it. You'll be amazed. Any physical activity does that to some extent, but I feel the warmth from skiing for hours.
Winter seems like a massive, unstoppable force this year, but of course it's not. So anyone who likes to use cross-country skiing as a winter program needs alternatives. These include hiking and running -- with or without snowshoes depending on conditions -- indoor spinning, weight training, swimming, running up and down stairwells, various exercise machines, drinking and bitching. Really vigorous bitching, particularly if you get up and pace around, can burn some calories and get your heart rate up more than just sitting around moping. And if you keep your beer in a fridge on a different floor or at least as far as possible from where you consume it you will get some exercise going back for a refill.
Obviously if you are below legal drinking age or otherwise disqualified from participating you will have to work around that. I'm only tossing out suggestions.
Whatever March does, Daylight Relocating Time kicks in this Sunday, shifting usable daylight later in the day. This would allow bike commuting right away. But I want a little saddle time before I charge right into the whole route. And icebergs line the roadway on most of my route, seriously limiting my options when dealing with early-season motorists who have happily forgotten what a cyclist looks like. In the best of years there's always a little friction as I retrain them. I prefer not to be dealing with narrowed, icy roads and my own lack of fitness while smacking down fractious drivers. But we're getting there. Regular riding will return.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Weather and time
Just as November can break out during any month of what we used to think of as winter, so can Sunday break out during any day of the week.
Sunday is absolutely the most tedious day of the work week. A busy spell on any other day will move the clock forward miraculously, bringing lunch time or quitting time pleasantly quickly. The same level of activity on a Sunday ends with the clock hands frozen where they started. Through this fall and winter, Sunday's time has spread to the other days. The silence is deeper. The sense of abandonment more complete. The desperate feeling of being in some absurdist hell settles like a weight on the chest.
It seems funny to talk about attacks of November when we're locked into a week of subzero nights and bitter, breezy days, but the National Weather Service forecast calls for a warmup to the 40s by next Wednesday, with rain showers. This is the new climate: if it gets cold at all it gets ridiculously cold. Storm fronts bounce off the frigid dome of high pressure, dumping their bounty on places that would prefer to do without it and then blundering out over the ocean. The wind shifts behind the front and drags a moist southerly flow over us. The first bit of precip might fall as something frozen, but the temperature keeps rising.
Longtime residents of the area all said you never get two skimpy winters in a row. I didn't bother to remind them of 1991 and 1992. I should check my notes. As meager as those winters were, they may not have been as bad as the last one and the one we're in. And a few others have only been one snowfall away from being epic disasters as well.
This puts the cross-training cyclist in a tough spot. I don't have much enthusiasm for a dawn patrol on icy roads at 6 degrees below zero, which was this morning's temperature. My previous winter stand-bys, cross-country skiing and hiking, suffer from a lack of snow on one hand and a lack of time on the other. With good snow and somewhat normal winter temperatures I would ski around the woods at home with a headlamp just for a little something.
It's indoor training, running or nothing. I'm cool with nothing. Reading, writing, bludgeoning the fiddle, maybe some drawing, not to mention sitting around under a cat all seem worthwhile enough as long as I move around a little during any given day. As bike season seems like more of a possibility in a week or a month the more focused training will seem more like it's worth the trouble.
Sunday is absolutely the most tedious day of the work week. A busy spell on any other day will move the clock forward miraculously, bringing lunch time or quitting time pleasantly quickly. The same level of activity on a Sunday ends with the clock hands frozen where they started. Through this fall and winter, Sunday's time has spread to the other days. The silence is deeper. The sense of abandonment more complete. The desperate feeling of being in some absurdist hell settles like a weight on the chest.
It seems funny to talk about attacks of November when we're locked into a week of subzero nights and bitter, breezy days, but the National Weather Service forecast calls for a warmup to the 40s by next Wednesday, with rain showers. This is the new climate: if it gets cold at all it gets ridiculously cold. Storm fronts bounce off the frigid dome of high pressure, dumping their bounty on places that would prefer to do without it and then blundering out over the ocean. The wind shifts behind the front and drags a moist southerly flow over us. The first bit of precip might fall as something frozen, but the temperature keeps rising.
Longtime residents of the area all said you never get two skimpy winters in a row. I didn't bother to remind them of 1991 and 1992. I should check my notes. As meager as those winters were, they may not have been as bad as the last one and the one we're in. And a few others have only been one snowfall away from being epic disasters as well.
This puts the cross-training cyclist in a tough spot. I don't have much enthusiasm for a dawn patrol on icy roads at 6 degrees below zero, which was this morning's temperature. My previous winter stand-bys, cross-country skiing and hiking, suffer from a lack of snow on one hand and a lack of time on the other. With good snow and somewhat normal winter temperatures I would ski around the woods at home with a headlamp just for a little something.
It's indoor training, running or nothing. I'm cool with nothing. Reading, writing, bludgeoning the fiddle, maybe some drawing, not to mention sitting around under a cat all seem worthwhile enough as long as I move around a little during any given day. As bike season seems like more of a possibility in a week or a month the more focused training will seem more like it's worth the trouble.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
The invisible bike
On a sleepy weekday last week I brought the helmet cam and a fixed-gear bike to work so I could shoot video while I rode delicately around the tight course on the sales floor. I'd ridden the rollers a couple of days, but it's more fun to ride where you can maneuver.
Because my netbook and the shop computers are too feeble to handle high definition video files I couldn't view my clips until I got home to the Macbook. The results surprised me.
Helmet cam videos shot in the outside world convey the movement of the bicyclist through familiar or plausible environments, on road or off. Depending on where the camera is mounted you might even see a bit of something to suggest the actual presence of the bicycle. But often it's really just a camera flying through space. We know it's on a cyclist because we've been told that. The movement matches what we know from our own cycling.
In my indoor videos I might as well be walking. On second and subsequent viewings I can start to pick up a bit of the fluidity of being on wheels, but for the slow bits where I'm tiptoeing through a narrow space nothing really indicates I'm riding a fixed gear dextrously down that alley except for my claim that this is the case.
As you may hear on the video, we're always trying to come up with revenue-generating ideas. I proposed a time trial around this indoor course. Riders could win discounts based on their times, but they have to pay full price for anything they break.
This next video is titled "Trouble in the Far Turn." That 180 down by the bikes has taken out many a rider. Okay, it's only taken me out, but it's done it many times. When the ski waxing station is set up you can easily nip the end of one of the waxing profiles and get thrown off your line.
Maybe next week I'll try a handlebar mount for the camera to try to get more of the bike perspective. I'm sure y'all can't wait.
Because my netbook and the shop computers are too feeble to handle high definition video files I couldn't view my clips until I got home to the Macbook. The results surprised me.
Helmet cam videos shot in the outside world convey the movement of the bicyclist through familiar or plausible environments, on road or off. Depending on where the camera is mounted you might even see a bit of something to suggest the actual presence of the bicycle. But often it's really just a camera flying through space. We know it's on a cyclist because we've been told that. The movement matches what we know from our own cycling.
In my indoor videos I might as well be walking. On second and subsequent viewings I can start to pick up a bit of the fluidity of being on wheels, but for the slow bits where I'm tiptoeing through a narrow space nothing really indicates I'm riding a fixed gear dextrously down that alley except for my claim that this is the case.
This next video is titled "Trouble in the Far Turn." That 180 down by the bikes has taken out many a rider. Okay, it's only taken me out, but it's done it many times. When the ski waxing station is set up you can easily nip the end of one of the waxing profiles and get thrown off your line.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Passing the Time
Two or three days at 50 degrees got rid of all that pesky snow we were planning to use to earn a meager living for a couple of months.
The shop is running on a skeleton crew. On many days we see no more than two or three customers.
Last Sunday I brought my rollers to work. Big G wasn't ready to try them, but he observed. I would hop on for a few minutes just for something to do. I brought them again today.
At least no one interrupts while we do inventory. It's a monumentally tedious task. One benefit of a bad economy is that we have fewer things to count. This means we also have fewer things to sell, although slow categories still show large stocks of things like ski wax.
Ski wax has no other uses. It makes lousy candles. Trust me, I tried. They burn really fast. So maybe we can melt down all the wax blocks and dip scrap lumber in them to make fire lighters for people with wood stoves and fireplaces. We won't recover our whole investment, but we can get something.
Looking out at the half-frozen lake I just had an idea for a pedal-powered amphibious vehicle. I was trying to imagine a pedal-powered hovercraft when it morphed into a pseudo-hovercraft. Imagine an inflatable boat around a bicycle. The pedals drive a wide, flat paddle wheel that also functions as a drive track on land or ice. It would be sort of like a pedal-powered half-track with pontoons.
Anything crazy has already been invented. The crazier it seems, the more likely you can find it in a You Tube video. I'll have to poke around a little before I waste time sketching anything.
In the early 1980s I drew up some concept sketches for a fast pedal boat for commuting by water in the Annapolis area. I had no money, so I never tried to build anything. This new idea is less elegant but might offer a new vehicle for the kind of mixed glop winter has been delivering.
It's something to think about, anyway. Beats wondering when the flu epidemic will slam us.
I swear I remember a time when winter was fun. Now we just stand around in our store waiting for someone to want something we carry and hope they're not carrying something we don't want. Slim compensation for the lack of customers: no one is coughing, sneezing or otherwise exuding pathogens on us.
The shop is running on a skeleton crew. On many days we see no more than two or three customers.
Last Sunday I brought my rollers to work. Big G wasn't ready to try them, but he observed. I would hop on for a few minutes just for something to do. I brought them again today.
At least no one interrupts while we do inventory. It's a monumentally tedious task. One benefit of a bad economy is that we have fewer things to count. This means we also have fewer things to sell, although slow categories still show large stocks of things like ski wax.
Ski wax has no other uses. It makes lousy candles. Trust me, I tried. They burn really fast. So maybe we can melt down all the wax blocks and dip scrap lumber in them to make fire lighters for people with wood stoves and fireplaces. We won't recover our whole investment, but we can get something.
Looking out at the half-frozen lake I just had an idea for a pedal-powered amphibious vehicle. I was trying to imagine a pedal-powered hovercraft when it morphed into a pseudo-hovercraft. Imagine an inflatable boat around a bicycle. The pedals drive a wide, flat paddle wheel that also functions as a drive track on land or ice. It would be sort of like a pedal-powered half-track with pontoons.
Anything crazy has already been invented. The crazier it seems, the more likely you can find it in a You Tube video. I'll have to poke around a little before I waste time sketching anything.
In the early 1980s I drew up some concept sketches for a fast pedal boat for commuting by water in the Annapolis area. I had no money, so I never tried to build anything. This new idea is less elegant but might offer a new vehicle for the kind of mixed glop winter has been delivering.
It's something to think about, anyway. Beats wondering when the flu epidemic will slam us.
I swear I remember a time when winter was fun. Now we just stand around in our store waiting for someone to want something we carry and hope they're not carrying something we don't want. Slim compensation for the lack of customers: no one is coughing, sneezing or otherwise exuding pathogens on us.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Well this is annoying
After denying us our livelihood for December, January and February, winter prepares to tighten its grip as March moves in. Blizzards of snow now would not make up for the loss of merely adequate snow at critical times. Heavy snow late would simply bring the winter's total up to "average," burying the economic horror and mood-destroying lack of exercise under a mask of statistical normality.
Last winter we had deep snow on the ground until late February. An early thaw wiped it out completely. One never knows. By mid-March the finish line is in sight. With clear roads we can ride across it. After a winter that seemed designed to inhibit every imaginable form of self-propelled travel, can we expect things to go our way now?
This winter all people have been able to do is hang out indoors and give each other diseases. I'm ready for some fresh air and sunshine.
Last winter we had deep snow on the ground until late February. An early thaw wiped it out completely. One never knows. By mid-March the finish line is in sight. With clear roads we can ride across it. After a winter that seemed designed to inhibit every imaginable form of self-propelled travel, can we expect things to go our way now?
This winter all people have been able to do is hang out indoors and give each other diseases. I'm ready for some fresh air and sunshine.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Way off season
Another bout of warm, wet weather wiped out nearly all the cross-country ski trail we had on life support. Here it is, late January and we're putting in some quality time with our rental bikes. Not that we have much to spend on early Valentine gifts for them. At least we can take note of the condition of each of them so we have an idea what complaints renters will have when they return them.
Big G and I are brainstorming as usual. So far we've come up with an idea to set up an aerial gondola over Wolfeboro as a tourist attraction and public transportation. We might end up doing a monorail instead. This was after we had some fun imagining where we could run zip lines from our building. That led to a gondola across Back Bay. The gondolas would have to have bike racks to make it easier to get to the bike path and other attractions on that side of the Smith River.
The discussion evolved to include Celebrity Blimp Tours along the waterfront of Sewall Road. Big G has dealt with the regulations governing carrying passengers by air. He started reeling off some of the things that would be required particularly for a route over water. I immediately thought of a marketing tie-in.
"In the event of a water landing, we will send you digital photos of yourself struggling in the lake as a complimentary souvenir of your memorable day! In the regrettable event that they need to be sent to your next of kin they will be tastefully packaged in a suitably commemorative way." This is a class act.
Forced to rely on our imaginations for occupation and diversion we're looking toward the bike season because the ski season keeps teasing us and flitting away. It isn't really bike season. Winter holds title to the next ten weeks even if it never decides to take a firm grip. Rather than strap myself onto the Nordic Track -- the most effective and therefore the most torturous exercise machine ever invented -- I run the stairs in my house from basement to loft over and over and then ride rollers for 40 minutes or so. Follow that with some stretching and call it good enough. The stairs are steep. It isn't bad. Any time I'm home I can throw in a lap or two without having to put on special clothes. If March is more like spring than winter I can venture out on the road then. Can't think about it yet.
We'll just keep redesigning Wolfeboro.
Big G and I are brainstorming as usual. So far we've come up with an idea to set up an aerial gondola over Wolfeboro as a tourist attraction and public transportation. We might end up doing a monorail instead. This was after we had some fun imagining where we could run zip lines from our building. That led to a gondola across Back Bay. The gondolas would have to have bike racks to make it easier to get to the bike path and other attractions on that side of the Smith River.
The discussion evolved to include Celebrity Blimp Tours along the waterfront of Sewall Road. Big G has dealt with the regulations governing carrying passengers by air. He started reeling off some of the things that would be required particularly for a route over water. I immediately thought of a marketing tie-in.
"In the event of a water landing, we will send you digital photos of yourself struggling in the lake as a complimentary souvenir of your memorable day! In the regrettable event that they need to be sent to your next of kin they will be tastefully packaged in a suitably commemorative way." This is a class act.
Forced to rely on our imaginations for occupation and diversion we're looking toward the bike season because the ski season keeps teasing us and flitting away. It isn't really bike season. Winter holds title to the next ten weeks even if it never decides to take a firm grip. Rather than strap myself onto the Nordic Track -- the most effective and therefore the most torturous exercise machine ever invented -- I run the stairs in my house from basement to loft over and over and then ride rollers for 40 minutes or so. Follow that with some stretching and call it good enough. The stairs are steep. It isn't bad. Any time I'm home I can throw in a lap or two without having to put on special clothes. If March is more like spring than winter I can venture out on the road then. Can't think about it yet.
We'll just keep redesigning Wolfeboro.
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
Commuting Season Approaches
Daylight Relocating Time begins this Sunday. With my groovy light system I should be more independent of daylight, but people worry about me and the dark rural highway is riskier at night.
Two weeks ago we got a foot of snow in Wolfe City. The shop owner declared loudly and confidently that we had so much snow that we would certainly be skiing well into the spring. In 20 years I have seen that prediction come true a mere handful of times. Sure enough, torrential rain within a couple of days of his brash statement scoured away a foot of snow in 24 hours. More rain and thaw weather have continued the attack.
Years ago I would have thrown my body across the snow to protect it. I would have raged against the gods. I'm too practical to keep that up, though. I soon learned to adapt to conditions. Conditions obviously were not going to adapt to me.
The early commuting season demands patience. Snowbanks and encroaching ice still narrow the roads in critical places. Deep drifts of sand fill the margins of the pavement. Blocked drains lead to flooding with briny melt water. I won't charge out and abuse my bike when I can abuse the car. Soon enough the weather will shift completely to the gray gap after winter has been dismantled. Then comes the gradual green of spring. All the while the sun vaults higher, so you get a good long look at the fugly and the early hints of returning life.
The toughest part is slogging through the slush in leafless woods to answer inopportune calls of nature on the long commute. Fluid balance is an art.
It's time to set up the rollers. I have to get my favorite old training tunes from vinyl and cassette tape to MP3. That could be cumbersome. I think I know a way, but I don't know if I have the requisite cords to play amp output into laptop input. I'm not even sure it would work. I certainly can't use that project as an excuse to delay training. I can always use the old Walkman.
The recent sudden death of Jon (who was a regular reader and frequent commenter on this blog) has taken a lot of the fun out of things. As much as you might tell yourself that life is fragile and can end in an instant, when a loved one is snatched away it creates concentric waves of distress from everyone who knew him. These waves cross each other, blend and reflect. They wash in from odd angles at unexpected times. Jon was a son, a brother, a husband and a father. His loss affects each person differently because of these roles and the ages of each person left behind. Because other family members have the illness that took him, we wonder who might be next. It's a pretty nasty frame of mind.
Aside from taking reasonable precautions to avoid the obvious, stupid things, you can't spend your life wondering when and how you are going to die, or how and when someone close to you will die.
The most dangerous thing you will ever do is love someone. You can't really control that,though. We humans tend to clump together.
Two weeks ago we got a foot of snow in Wolfe City. The shop owner declared loudly and confidently that we had so much snow that we would certainly be skiing well into the spring. In 20 years I have seen that prediction come true a mere handful of times. Sure enough, torrential rain within a couple of days of his brash statement scoured away a foot of snow in 24 hours. More rain and thaw weather have continued the attack.
Years ago I would have thrown my body across the snow to protect it. I would have raged against the gods. I'm too practical to keep that up, though. I soon learned to adapt to conditions. Conditions obviously were not going to adapt to me.
The early commuting season demands patience. Snowbanks and encroaching ice still narrow the roads in critical places. Deep drifts of sand fill the margins of the pavement. Blocked drains lead to flooding with briny melt water. I won't charge out and abuse my bike when I can abuse the car. Soon enough the weather will shift completely to the gray gap after winter has been dismantled. Then comes the gradual green of spring. All the while the sun vaults higher, so you get a good long look at the fugly and the early hints of returning life.
The toughest part is slogging through the slush in leafless woods to answer inopportune calls of nature on the long commute. Fluid balance is an art.
It's time to set up the rollers. I have to get my favorite old training tunes from vinyl and cassette tape to MP3. That could be cumbersome. I think I know a way, but I don't know if I have the requisite cords to play amp output into laptop input. I'm not even sure it would work. I certainly can't use that project as an excuse to delay training. I can always use the old Walkman.
The recent sudden death of Jon (who was a regular reader and frequent commenter on this blog) has taken a lot of the fun out of things. As much as you might tell yourself that life is fragile and can end in an instant, when a loved one is snatched away it creates concentric waves of distress from everyone who knew him. These waves cross each other, blend and reflect. They wash in from odd angles at unexpected times. Jon was a son, a brother, a husband and a father. His loss affects each person differently because of these roles and the ages of each person left behind. Because other family members have the illness that took him, we wonder who might be next. It's a pretty nasty frame of mind.
Aside from taking reasonable precautions to avoid the obvious, stupid things, you can't spend your life wondering when and how you are going to die, or how and when someone close to you will die.
The most dangerous thing you will ever do is love someone. You can't really control that,though. We humans tend to clump together.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Happy New Year, by the way
Although the calendar doesn't change for another few days, I think of the new year beginning at the moment the Earth passes the point at which sunlight begins its long crawl back toward the northern hemisphere. From the winter solstice onward, those who variously like or seriously crave daylight get a little more each day.
The change is imperceptible at first. By the second week of January the change is obvious. As much as short little February seems to stretch eternally, followed by about 40 days of March, the lengthening days of winter hold quite a bit of hope and energy.
This year I had a very sluggish late fall. Every year I want to sit quietly and think during the ultimate slowing of the year, but this year I really crunched to a halt, mentally and physically. All my plans for creative activity by lamp light came to nothing. Based on conversations with people I know, I was not the only one.
One friend of mine, a sort of Episco-Buddhist-Zen-Wiccan, told me she was unbelievably torpid this year. But, she said, on the next day after the winter solstice, she suddenly felt a return of energy. She acknowledges the many reasons she could feel this way. Knowing that the corner has been turned heads the list. But she and I had both experienced the phenomenon with a more rounded bottom curve in most years. I, too, felt unaccountably perky the day after the solstice.
Mind you, it's no miracle cure. It's far from complete. But for the first time in weeks, on December 23 I actually felt like moving my body in a more constructive way than simply dragging it from bed to coffee pot, coffee pot to work, work to home and flopping into bed for an unsatisfying doze ending in joint pain and another crawl toward caffeine. Perhaps soon I will follow the transitory feeling with action.
Big snow is apparently on its way, to open the ski trails and stimulate some needed cash flow into the company coffers. Whether winter will truly build and maintain usable ski conditions remains to be seen. Somehow, no matter what the winter does these days, it's still easier to scrape up a sense of purpose once December is piled by the curb.
The change is imperceptible at first. By the second week of January the change is obvious. As much as short little February seems to stretch eternally, followed by about 40 days of March, the lengthening days of winter hold quite a bit of hope and energy.
This year I had a very sluggish late fall. Every year I want to sit quietly and think during the ultimate slowing of the year, but this year I really crunched to a halt, mentally and physically. All my plans for creative activity by lamp light came to nothing. Based on conversations with people I know, I was not the only one.
One friend of mine, a sort of Episco-Buddhist-Zen-Wiccan, told me she was unbelievably torpid this year. But, she said, on the next day after the winter solstice, she suddenly felt a return of energy. She acknowledges the many reasons she could feel this way. Knowing that the corner has been turned heads the list. But she and I had both experienced the phenomenon with a more rounded bottom curve in most years. I, too, felt unaccountably perky the day after the solstice.
Mind you, it's no miracle cure. It's far from complete. But for the first time in weeks, on December 23 I actually felt like moving my body in a more constructive way than simply dragging it from bed to coffee pot, coffee pot to work, work to home and flopping into bed for an unsatisfying doze ending in joint pain and another crawl toward caffeine. Perhaps soon I will follow the transitory feeling with action.
Big snow is apparently on its way, to open the ski trails and stimulate some needed cash flow into the company coffers. Whether winter will truly build and maintain usable ski conditions remains to be seen. Somehow, no matter what the winter does these days, it's still easier to scrape up a sense of purpose once December is piled by the curb.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Blame Singapore
It started with a broken flange on a Bonerager rear hub. An athletic-looking guy who looked to be somewhere in his flurfties -- what do you call the age we're getting to now? We're not middle aged. That sounds so stodgy. But we're not ferocious young athletes anymore, either. In good shape for our age? That sounds like something you say about 95-year-olds who don't need a walker. Anyway, this guy comes in with his late-1990s LeMond road bike with this cracked hub flange. He said he was grunting up a climb.I told him the wheel was toast. We discussed his options. He selected a built wheel from a reputable supplier rather than engage my talents for a custom build. Because his bike was very rusty that seemed like a good compromise.
He requested an overhaul on the bike while we waited for delivery of the wheel. We discussed the rust.
I've seen some nasty rust on bikes people ride on their trainers. He admitted to some of that, but he and his wife blamed most of it on the time the bike had spent with them in Singapore, with its tropical humidity and surrounding salt water.
He loves how the bike handles. I said I would check the frame for cracks before proceeding. This I did, in due time, when I finally started the repair a few days later. For some reason the frame was intact. For how much longer, I could not say.
I'm so glad I unwrapped the handlebars before I went too far on any other work. I've seen trainer corrosion, I've seen metal fatigue. This was the first time I had seen handlebars that had literally turned to powder inside the bar tape.
POWDER!I was able to poke a screwdriver through the handlebars in many places. See?
Screwdriver inserted into barsI called a halt to this repair until the customer can see what we're up against. I've suggested he transfer the many good surviving parts and his groovy new rear wheel to a Surly Pacer or similar sporty road frame.
I can't believe he was riding this. He was one good pothole away from collapsing those bars.
I can't believe he was riding this. He was one good pothole away from collapsing those bars.
Monday, February 08, 2010
Starts and restarts
My wife's mother died at the end of January. That makes any whinge about lack of riding or skiing opportunities seem unforgivably trivial unless you consider the anti-depressant effects of exercise and the value of positive routines to help overcome the considerable stress of unhappy events.
Indeed, my wife resumed her trainer rides when we returned from the funeral trip. I was the laggard, already in a slump with the destruction of cross-country ski conditions after heavy rain took out most of the trail system a few weeks ago. And I got a headcold on the airplane trip. So the ride I took today was long overdue.
I haven't had this long a break in training since about 1979. Even when I quit racing bikes I still commuted, and I trained for climbing and mountaineering, so I ran, hiked, and followed a regular upper-body conditioning program. Exploring demands fitness.
My wife was a runner for many years. Whenever she needed to jump-start a conditioning program she would run. Unfortunately, the impacts finally caught up with her. She rides the trainer with admirable dedication. She also has discovered the fixed-gear, for when she's inclined to go back out on the roads.
Fixed gear does for me what running did for her. Cross-country skiing is more complete exercise, but requires certain conditions. Ski machines are mentally torturous. When I need to blast the lethargy and get moving, the fixed gear provides the same continuous effort that running requires (no coasting), without the impact.
I've read a little about chi running. It seems intriguing. When I ran, I did not suffer injuries, but I never ran for more than a few months at a time. I would always resume one of my preferred activities when I got the chance. I'm a bike guy. From the little I've skimmed about chi running, it sounds like a way to promote a light-footed stride that I may have possessed naturally. I remember the beginning of every summer in childhood, when all the neighborhood kids would recondition their feet to go barefoot. I ran all over the place with no shoes, once my feet were toughened up. The barefoot stride apparently trains you not to strike heavily on the heel. I do remember padding like an animal when running barefoot.
I would have to run along the roads around here. Some people stud an old pair of running shoes and use the snow machine trails. It's so much easier to break out the fixed gear and knock off ten or fifteen miles.
This is February. It could be the beginning of riding season. It wouldn't be the first time. It needs to be something.
The big snow in the Middle Atlantic region of the US makes my Mobile Groomer idea look pretty good. Big cargo aircraft would transport grooming equipment to create cross-country ski trail networks wherever heavy snow had just fallen. The mobile units would stay as long as they were needed. They could also bring mobile rental and retail facilities to bring the Nordic area to the snow rather than sit in one place and hope the weather comes to them. There are parks and golf courses in many places that see snowy winters on an irregular basis. No one would invest in a permanent facility there, but some sort of broad-based investment system might support mobile facilities.
None of this helps me in snow-deprived New England. I still have to do my rides on the sandy, dusty roads with a cold wind pushing me around. But it would help me, knowing that the bounty of snow somewhere else wasn't going completely to waste.
Indeed, my wife resumed her trainer rides when we returned from the funeral trip. I was the laggard, already in a slump with the destruction of cross-country ski conditions after heavy rain took out most of the trail system a few weeks ago. And I got a headcold on the airplane trip. So the ride I took today was long overdue.
I haven't had this long a break in training since about 1979. Even when I quit racing bikes I still commuted, and I trained for climbing and mountaineering, so I ran, hiked, and followed a regular upper-body conditioning program. Exploring demands fitness.
My wife was a runner for many years. Whenever she needed to jump-start a conditioning program she would run. Unfortunately, the impacts finally caught up with her. She rides the trainer with admirable dedication. She also has discovered the fixed-gear, for when she's inclined to go back out on the roads.
Fixed gear does for me what running did for her. Cross-country skiing is more complete exercise, but requires certain conditions. Ski machines are mentally torturous. When I need to blast the lethargy and get moving, the fixed gear provides the same continuous effort that running requires (no coasting), without the impact.
I've read a little about chi running. It seems intriguing. When I ran, I did not suffer injuries, but I never ran for more than a few months at a time. I would always resume one of my preferred activities when I got the chance. I'm a bike guy. From the little I've skimmed about chi running, it sounds like a way to promote a light-footed stride that I may have possessed naturally. I remember the beginning of every summer in childhood, when all the neighborhood kids would recondition their feet to go barefoot. I ran all over the place with no shoes, once my feet were toughened up. The barefoot stride apparently trains you not to strike heavily on the heel. I do remember padding like an animal when running barefoot.
I would have to run along the roads around here. Some people stud an old pair of running shoes and use the snow machine trails. It's so much easier to break out the fixed gear and knock off ten or fifteen miles.
This is February. It could be the beginning of riding season. It wouldn't be the first time. It needs to be something.
The big snow in the Middle Atlantic region of the US makes my Mobile Groomer idea look pretty good. Big cargo aircraft would transport grooming equipment to create cross-country ski trail networks wherever heavy snow had just fallen. The mobile units would stay as long as they were needed. They could also bring mobile rental and retail facilities to bring the Nordic area to the snow rather than sit in one place and hope the weather comes to them. There are parks and golf courses in many places that see snowy winters on an irregular basis. No one would invest in a permanent facility there, but some sort of broad-based investment system might support mobile facilities.
None of this helps me in snow-deprived New England. I still have to do my rides on the sandy, dusty roads with a cold wind pushing me around. But it would help me, knowing that the bounty of snow somewhere else wasn't going completely to waste.
Friday, January 15, 2010
My Alternative Lifestye
My friend's interest in Telemark lessons has receded. Coincidentally, I've had opportunities to scrabble around on the Nordic trails, enjoying the most complete exercise ever devised.
As great as cycling is (and it is), Nordic skiing provides one-stop shopping for full-body conditioning. With the right trail network, it also provides some excitement. You have to control your effort on climbs and control speed and direction on descent. You have to hold your line in corners and be able to adapt instantly to changes in the surface or sudden obstacles. The speed range is different, but many of the mental qualities are similar to bicycling.
I would much rather go outside and do something appropriate to the season than simulate another season's activity indoors. I just can't get jacked up for spinning classes. I've lost my drive for weight training. When I can cross-country ski I don't have to worry about anything else.
After ski season I do bring some excess arm and shoulder mass into bike season. The extra muscle is good for the needs of daily life. It only seems like a bother when I'm pedaling up a hill and I can't use those poling muscles. So I do change shape a little from season to season.
We're in a snow drought right now. We've been farming the same meager few inches for a month. Now we're getting a thaw. So I may be back on the bike for a while, if we lose what little we have. It's hard, because I can't rely on the steady schedule of the commute. So I'll be back to weights and rollers, occasional outdoor rides, hiking, and whatever else I can put together.
We can't count on winter. I've seen several years with no usable snow. I've also seen winters in which buildings collapsed under the weight of it. I've seen winters shift from one type to the other. No one seems to be able to predict it. They know why it's happening when it's actually happening, but that's about all. You must adapt to what you cannot change.
As great as cycling is (and it is), Nordic skiing provides one-stop shopping for full-body conditioning. With the right trail network, it also provides some excitement. You have to control your effort on climbs and control speed and direction on descent. You have to hold your line in corners and be able to adapt instantly to changes in the surface or sudden obstacles. The speed range is different, but many of the mental qualities are similar to bicycling.
I would much rather go outside and do something appropriate to the season than simulate another season's activity indoors. I just can't get jacked up for spinning classes. I've lost my drive for weight training. When I can cross-country ski I don't have to worry about anything else.
After ski season I do bring some excess arm and shoulder mass into bike season. The extra muscle is good for the needs of daily life. It only seems like a bother when I'm pedaling up a hill and I can't use those poling muscles. So I do change shape a little from season to season.
We're in a snow drought right now. We've been farming the same meager few inches for a month. Now we're getting a thaw. So I may be back on the bike for a while, if we lose what little we have. It's hard, because I can't rely on the steady schedule of the commute. So I'll be back to weights and rollers, occasional outdoor rides, hiking, and whatever else I can put together.
We can't count on winter. I've seen several years with no usable snow. I've also seen winters in which buildings collapsed under the weight of it. I've seen winters shift from one type to the other. No one seems to be able to predict it. They know why it's happening when it's actually happening, but that's about all. You must adapt to what you cannot change.
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
Back in the Saddle
Two days officially constitutes a trend. I've resumed exercise, with some ski-specific leg work and two sessions on the rollers.
The cellist was more consistent with exercise than I was during the December doldrums. Today she put in an hour and a half on the trainer. It's all good. I prefer to mix up the muscle groups a bit in the off season, but the trainer is convenient for her. She started sitting up to do some arm work with light weights during today's workout.
A friend of mine is interested in learning Telemark turns to enhance his exploratory skiing. We plan to go to a small lift-served area for some practice in the next few weeks, so I started doing some of the exercises I devised years ago when I spent a lot of time practicing at lift-served areas. Telemark turns have a unique way of ripping hamstrings. Better to rip those in advance, in the comfort of your home, than out on a windswept hill.
Rather than perform the pedal stroke under load all year, on a trainer and on the road, I build or maintain muscle in the off season with Nordic skiing, hiking and squats (or Telemark dips). As part of the same session, I ride the rollers to make sure I stay smooth. It also helps loosen up my legs after the grunt work, before stretching. In a good ski season I will quite likely drop the rollers until March. In a bad ski season I might not only keep up the rollers, but also start to ride outdoors. I hate to start that too early when the weather could close in. Then the bike conditioning fades again as my activities shift to match weather conditions.
If I hit a bad spell for outdoor fun I still try to manage jail cell workouts, running the stairs in my house (steep, two sets), duck-walking in Telemark stance, door-frame pullups, stretching and light weights. It's often hard to stay interested. I have to remind myself how much better it feels to get it done. A little is better than nothing.
Right now I look forward to helping my friend learn the Tele turn more quickly, with fewer injuries, than I did. I haven't been on the lifts in ten years or more. I hope I remember what to do with a wide, groomed slope. My gear is hopelessly out of date, but I like it. I have no desire for monster boots and skis the size of surfboards. I really enjoyed the art of maneuvering a skinny ski.
I've got about a week to torture my thighs back into that kind of shape. Then there's the rest of the winter.
The cellist was more consistent with exercise than I was during the December doldrums. Today she put in an hour and a half on the trainer. It's all good. I prefer to mix up the muscle groups a bit in the off season, but the trainer is convenient for her. She started sitting up to do some arm work with light weights during today's workout.
A friend of mine is interested in learning Telemark turns to enhance his exploratory skiing. We plan to go to a small lift-served area for some practice in the next few weeks, so I started doing some of the exercises I devised years ago when I spent a lot of time practicing at lift-served areas. Telemark turns have a unique way of ripping hamstrings. Better to rip those in advance, in the comfort of your home, than out on a windswept hill.
Rather than perform the pedal stroke under load all year, on a trainer and on the road, I build or maintain muscle in the off season with Nordic skiing, hiking and squats (or Telemark dips). As part of the same session, I ride the rollers to make sure I stay smooth. It also helps loosen up my legs after the grunt work, before stretching. In a good ski season I will quite likely drop the rollers until March. In a bad ski season I might not only keep up the rollers, but also start to ride outdoors. I hate to start that too early when the weather could close in. Then the bike conditioning fades again as my activities shift to match weather conditions.
If I hit a bad spell for outdoor fun I still try to manage jail cell workouts, running the stairs in my house (steep, two sets), duck-walking in Telemark stance, door-frame pullups, stretching and light weights. It's often hard to stay interested. I have to remind myself how much better it feels to get it done. A little is better than nothing.
Right now I look forward to helping my friend learn the Tele turn more quickly, with fewer injuries, than I did. I haven't been on the lifts in ten years or more. I hope I remember what to do with a wide, groomed slope. My gear is hopelessly out of date, but I like it. I have no desire for monster boots and skis the size of surfboards. I really enjoyed the art of maneuvering a skinny ski.
I've got about a week to torture my thighs back into that kind of shape. Then there's the rest of the winter.
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Your Beauty Sleep
The way I feel in the morning reminds me that rest is a vital part of the training cycle.
Transportation and commuting cyclists might think they're exempt from training schedules. In cooperative terrain, over fairly short distances, that's probably true. But as you age you will notice slopes and distances you formerly considered trivial. If you ride a longer average daily distance over bigger hills you can easily fall into a destructive pattern in which you ride at moderately high intensity all the time.
Traffic cycling often feels like a race. Dense traffic feels like a criterium, but even on the open road I find that motorists seem more respectful if I maintain a good cadence and appear strong. That doesn't mean charging every hill in the big ring. That takes a lot out of you and still looks feebly slow to the pilot of a ridiculously over-powered motor vehicle. Just maintain good pressure on the pedals and keep your head up. Day after day, mile after mile, that's enough to sap you by the end of the week if you don't stretch and rest when you get home.
The effect comes on gradually. You might hammer through your thirties and most of your forties on caffeine and over the counter pain meds (or worse), but at some point you will have to accommodate the realities of physiology.
Racers face this fact early in their careers or they have no career. To race successfully, even as field fodder, you can't beat the crap out of yourself all the time and expect to have any pop on race day. My own results were mediocre, but I learned that principle from a member of the US Olympic cycling team for 1980. A few of us in Annapolis were fortunate to ride with Thomas Prehn when he lived there. He taught us right away to avoid the "half fast" pace that breaks you down without the benefit of a well-defined difference between effort and rest.
Unfortunately, the half fast pace can afflict many commuters trying to keep their schedule. On my commute I face the same hills over the same 14.3 miles. Leaving my rural neighborhood I share the road with people who act like they just got home from NASCAR fantasy camp, on a somewhat hilly two-lane road. Three miles of that leads to state highways for about seven miles before density begins to pick up again going into Wolfeboro. The road narrows sharply as the traffic packs into one of three primary feeder routes into town. It's a small town, but it strangles a couple of numbered highways, so traffic in or out of town mixes with frustrated drivers just passing through. It's a place to keep your elbows out and your attitude up.
Going home I add some distance to avoid some tight spots. The longest route makes about a 34-mile day with a really stiff climb on the way home. That route is quite restful, because the nasty climb is on a dirt road through the woods, but it's still a tad over 17 miles with a lot of climbing after a long day on my feet at work.
Standing up for hours after sprinting to work fills my legs with the chemicals of fatigue. I have to carve out a few minutes here and there to stretch a little during the day.
Interestingly, riding the fixed gear bike a couple of days a week seems to help loosen things up. Maybe the fact that it forces the legs to move constantly helps flush out the muscles on the downhills rather than letting them sit idle as they would while coasting on a freewheel bike. Even so, after yesterday's sprint on the rain bike and last night's long zoning board meeting my legs feel like they've been pummeled. Today needs to be a rest day. Ideally I will hit the rollers and then stretch after I get home tonight. Either that or pop 12 ounces of carbohydrate beverage and hit the couch. As long as I elevate my legs it counts as part of training.
Transportation and commuting cyclists might think they're exempt from training schedules. In cooperative terrain, over fairly short distances, that's probably true. But as you age you will notice slopes and distances you formerly considered trivial. If you ride a longer average daily distance over bigger hills you can easily fall into a destructive pattern in which you ride at moderately high intensity all the time.
Traffic cycling often feels like a race. Dense traffic feels like a criterium, but even on the open road I find that motorists seem more respectful if I maintain a good cadence and appear strong. That doesn't mean charging every hill in the big ring. That takes a lot out of you and still looks feebly slow to the pilot of a ridiculously over-powered motor vehicle. Just maintain good pressure on the pedals and keep your head up. Day after day, mile after mile, that's enough to sap you by the end of the week if you don't stretch and rest when you get home.
The effect comes on gradually. You might hammer through your thirties and most of your forties on caffeine and over the counter pain meds (or worse), but at some point you will have to accommodate the realities of physiology.
Racers face this fact early in their careers or they have no career. To race successfully, even as field fodder, you can't beat the crap out of yourself all the time and expect to have any pop on race day. My own results were mediocre, but I learned that principle from a member of the US Olympic cycling team for 1980. A few of us in Annapolis were fortunate to ride with Thomas Prehn when he lived there. He taught us right away to avoid the "half fast" pace that breaks you down without the benefit of a well-defined difference between effort and rest.
Unfortunately, the half fast pace can afflict many commuters trying to keep their schedule. On my commute I face the same hills over the same 14.3 miles. Leaving my rural neighborhood I share the road with people who act like they just got home from NASCAR fantasy camp, on a somewhat hilly two-lane road. Three miles of that leads to state highways for about seven miles before density begins to pick up again going into Wolfeboro. The road narrows sharply as the traffic packs into one of three primary feeder routes into town. It's a small town, but it strangles a couple of numbered highways, so traffic in or out of town mixes with frustrated drivers just passing through. It's a place to keep your elbows out and your attitude up.
Going home I add some distance to avoid some tight spots. The longest route makes about a 34-mile day with a really stiff climb on the way home. That route is quite restful, because the nasty climb is on a dirt road through the woods, but it's still a tad over 17 miles with a lot of climbing after a long day on my feet at work.
Standing up for hours after sprinting to work fills my legs with the chemicals of fatigue. I have to carve out a few minutes here and there to stretch a little during the day.
Interestingly, riding the fixed gear bike a couple of days a week seems to help loosen things up. Maybe the fact that it forces the legs to move constantly helps flush out the muscles on the downhills rather than letting them sit idle as they would while coasting on a freewheel bike. Even so, after yesterday's sprint on the rain bike and last night's long zoning board meeting my legs feel like they've been pummeled. Today needs to be a rest day. Ideally I will hit the rollers and then stretch after I get home tonight. Either that or pop 12 ounces of carbohydrate beverage and hit the couch. As long as I elevate my legs it counts as part of training.
Friday, November 28, 2008
It's the stops
said...
Here is a photo of the typical and inevitable destruction of cable housing on a bike with head tube stops and conventional drop bars.
The aero bars on the black bike did complicate the problem, but the basic flaw affects any cabling. The curve ends too abruptly, too close to the pivot point of the whole assembly. It would only work well if the cables went into a ball swivel that allowed the ferrule to rotate freely without turning the threaded adjuster or fraying the cable over a hard edge. That's why I hate them. They make life worse in a small way and better in no way. The only way to work around them would be to remove them entirely.
The salt and sugar bath poured over the black bike only made the cable adjusters corrode into the stops. That can't be cleaned off after the fact without disassembling the bike to some degree. Salty water seeps in along the cable and down the threads of the adjuster by capillary action. Well-greased adjuster threads will guard against the damage for a while. Eventually, everything needs to be taken apart, hosed out with spray lube and put back together with fresh grease.
I suggested to the triathlete whose bike inspired my rant that she get a beater bike to stick on her trainer. Sweat on a real ride blows away on the breeze. That confines the sugar water to the vicinity of the water bottle cages and wherever the rider drools a significant amount. Much of the lip-drip blows away like the sweat. If the beater isn't an option, rig a towel or buy one of the prepared sweat catchers you can stick on your bike to catch the briny swill before it soaks anything expensive and delicate.
Here is a photo of the typical and inevitable destruction of cable housing on a bike with head tube stops and conventional drop bars.
The aero bars on the black bike did complicate the problem, but the basic flaw affects any cabling. The curve ends too abruptly, too close to the pivot point of the whole assembly. It would only work well if the cables went into a ball swivel that allowed the ferrule to rotate freely without turning the threaded adjuster or fraying the cable over a hard edge. That's why I hate them. They make life worse in a small way and better in no way. The only way to work around them would be to remove them entirely.The salt and sugar bath poured over the black bike only made the cable adjusters corrode into the stops. That can't be cleaned off after the fact without disassembling the bike to some degree. Salty water seeps in along the cable and down the threads of the adjuster by capillary action. Well-greased adjuster threads will guard against the damage for a while. Eventually, everything needs to be taken apart, hosed out with spray lube and put back together with fresh grease.
I suggested to the triathlete whose bike inspired my rant that she get a beater bike to stick on her trainer. Sweat on a real ride blows away on the breeze. That confines the sugar water to the vicinity of the water bottle cages and wherever the rider drools a significant amount. Much of the lip-drip blows away like the sweat. If the beater isn't an option, rig a towel or buy one of the prepared sweat catchers you can stick on your bike to catch the briny swill before it soaks anything expensive and delicate.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Brand X will kill you, too.
Not much to talk about but the perfect playlist for roller riding. I'm sure everyone has their contenders. There's a ton of music out there.
A little at a time I am compiling a scientific collection of single-artist and mix tapes to provide tempos for varied intensity workouts. Since this is but one of many unimportant projects, it could easily never be finished or even progress beyond this point.
Back in the ancient past, when Phil Collins had hair, Brand X produced music described, for want of a better term, as jazz-fusion. For the cyclist they offer cadences that may be overtly fast or concealed. In what seems like a slow tune, a complex underbeat flickers like the mouth parts of a crustacean that otherwise appears sluggish or at rest. Frequently the tunes offer layered beats that give the rider options to pursue an interval workout in the fast layers and rest in the slower ones.
Brand X music can drive some people right out of the room. I like the stuff and it can even drive me out of the room. Everything's cruising along melodically when suddenly you notice that they've really cranked up the jangle factor. It's still melodic and musically tight, just as soothing as a smoke alarm. That can be good when you want to get hyped up for a puking ultra-spin. Pretend you're trying to get out of the room.
Can we call them albums anymore? The albums Unorthodox Behavior and Livestock are more tuneful than offerings like Moroccan Roll and Masques. Since most lyrics annoy me, I haven't spent a lot of time with anything they did with identifiable words. Any of their albums (discs, whatever) may harbor something useful. I just haven't bothered to mine them and put them together yet. As I said, it's not that compellingly important.
Right now I'm looking out at a rerun of February. Snow sifts down from a mat of gray. Directionless light casts a shadowless glare over the fields outside. In whatever the weather brings, I hope to be able to go for a scamper on the skis after work. It could be cold, driving rain.
A little at a time I am compiling a scientific collection of single-artist and mix tapes to provide tempos for varied intensity workouts. Since this is but one of many unimportant projects, it could easily never be finished or even progress beyond this point.
Back in the ancient past, when Phil Collins had hair, Brand X produced music described, for want of a better term, as jazz-fusion. For the cyclist they offer cadences that may be overtly fast or concealed. In what seems like a slow tune, a complex underbeat flickers like the mouth parts of a crustacean that otherwise appears sluggish or at rest. Frequently the tunes offer layered beats that give the rider options to pursue an interval workout in the fast layers and rest in the slower ones.
Brand X music can drive some people right out of the room. I like the stuff and it can even drive me out of the room. Everything's cruising along melodically when suddenly you notice that they've really cranked up the jangle factor. It's still melodic and musically tight, just as soothing as a smoke alarm. That can be good when you want to get hyped up for a puking ultra-spin. Pretend you're trying to get out of the room.
Can we call them albums anymore? The albums Unorthodox Behavior and Livestock are more tuneful than offerings like Moroccan Roll and Masques. Since most lyrics annoy me, I haven't spent a lot of time with anything they did with identifiable words. Any of their albums (discs, whatever) may harbor something useful. I just haven't bothered to mine them and put them together yet. As I said, it's not that compellingly important.
Right now I'm looking out at a rerun of February. Snow sifts down from a mat of gray. Directionless light casts a shadowless glare over the fields outside. In whatever the weather brings, I hope to be able to go for a scamper on the skis after work. It could be cold, driving rain.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Beaten to death with a vibraphone
With no time to go outside, despite the sunny day and fresh powder snow, I cut 40 minutes into the schedule to ride the rollers again.
Balancing as if magically, a ride on rollers has the element of the unexpected to help defeat the monotony of mere trainer riding. While it would not have been my first choice for a day like today, it was better than nothing to try to stimulate blood flow to the brain.
My cassette collection dwindles as the dried-out tapes disintegrate in various ways, so I have fewer options to stick in the old Walkman hanging above the rollers in the basement. I chose a selection from Tim Weisberg.
Scornfully dismissed as "dentist office music" by one young listener, this album does sound light, fluffy and unchallenging. However, when you try to pedal at its speed you find that the heartless bastards are affably dragging you up to 150 rpm or more with their mellow jazz combo.
Judging by the photos on the jacket and liner of "Night Rider" and "Listen to the City," Weisberg was a cyclist in the 1970s. Wasn't everyone?
Time to dredge out some old vinyl and remake my best riding tapes, as well as collecting good cadences from all eras in whatever media I find them. I'd rather play outside, but it's nice to have options for when I can't.
Balancing as if magically, a ride on rollers has the element of the unexpected to help defeat the monotony of mere trainer riding. While it would not have been my first choice for a day like today, it was better than nothing to try to stimulate blood flow to the brain.
My cassette collection dwindles as the dried-out tapes disintegrate in various ways, so I have fewer options to stick in the old Walkman hanging above the rollers in the basement. I chose a selection from Tim Weisberg.
Scornfully dismissed as "dentist office music" by one young listener, this album does sound light, fluffy and unchallenging. However, when you try to pedal at its speed you find that the heartless bastards are affably dragging you up to 150 rpm or more with their mellow jazz combo.
Judging by the photos on the jacket and liner of "Night Rider" and "Listen to the City," Weisberg was a cyclist in the 1970s. Wasn't everyone?
Time to dredge out some old vinyl and remake my best riding tapes, as well as collecting good cadences from all eras in whatever media I find them. I'd rather play outside, but it's nice to have options for when I can't.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Call me Crazy
I actually enjoy riding rollers. With familiar music piped directly into my brain I can ride the tempos it provides to get a well-planned workout. With less familiar music I can feel around for the right cadence. All the while the precarious balance forces me to spin smoothly.
Today I used the rollers to loosen up my legs after the first two days of Nordic skiing. Whatever you do to train before snow arrives, real skiing is different. Even on roller skis you don't steer your feet and balance quite the same way. Wheels on pavement track like wheels on pavement, without the constant minor (and sometimes major) wiggles and wobbles made by two sticks sliding over snow.
Steering and balancing muscles burn out quickly. My legs were thrashed after the first day and worse after the second. But nothing compares to the peace that saturates me after cross-country skiing. Every system of the body has had a beneficial workout. The specialized muscles will remember their roles soon enough. Meanwhile, the stiffness gives me a good reason to hop on the rollers.
The best roller music offers layered tempos in which a good riding cadence may not immediately be obvious. Heavily accented beats aren't good, because you want to pedal evenly. Flowing tunes make it easier to keep time only from the hips down. You don't want to be throwing your head and shoulders around or shaking your booty, unless you want to waggle and get launched (" 'scuse me while I kiss the wall...").
Today I used the rollers to loosen up my legs after the first two days of Nordic skiing. Whatever you do to train before snow arrives, real skiing is different. Even on roller skis you don't steer your feet and balance quite the same way. Wheels on pavement track like wheels on pavement, without the constant minor (and sometimes major) wiggles and wobbles made by two sticks sliding over snow.
Steering and balancing muscles burn out quickly. My legs were thrashed after the first day and worse after the second. But nothing compares to the peace that saturates me after cross-country skiing. Every system of the body has had a beneficial workout. The specialized muscles will remember their roles soon enough. Meanwhile, the stiffness gives me a good reason to hop on the rollers.
The best roller music offers layered tempos in which a good riding cadence may not immediately be obvious. Heavily accented beats aren't good, because you want to pedal evenly. Flowing tunes make it easier to keep time only from the hips down. You don't want to be throwing your head and shoulders around or shaking your booty, unless you want to waggle and get launched (" 'scuse me while I kiss the wall...").
Friday, April 06, 2007
April Showers
When April showers come your way
They bring the snow you'll see 'til May.
We got a solid twelve inches of April showers Wednesday into Thursday. Then the temperature dropped into the twenties overnight, so the snowbanks stayed in the road and black and gray ice made the lanes more treacherous. I could try to ride in that, but I didn't.
Tonight is even colder, but we did have a little thawing today. If I feel bold, I might give it a shot tomorrow. The forecast holds no really warm weather for the next week.
The refreeze set up the crust, and the old snow had mostly melted away, so it does not open up back-country ski possibilities, either. It just delays the next season's fun.
I could scrape the storage wax off my skate skis...
Tonight I rode my new Minoura rollers for the first time. I retired the rusty Roll Tracs. They sagged. At speed they vibrated so badly they threw the drive belt off. But the new ones intimidated me for the first few minutes. I don't know if the actual roller drums are narrower, but the frame around them is, making it look like I have much less margin for error. The drums roll smoothly, which should be better, but they seemed to magnify my own errors until I'd stayed on long enough to get my chops back.
Rollers have apparently become hip again. I've seen two models with added stability enhancers that claim to let you relax and ride in a more "natural" (read "sloppy") fashion.
Yes, at high cadences you can bounce and wobble. That's the point. Learn not to bounce and wobble on the rollers and you will gain incredible balance and confidence on the road. You can learn not to bounce or wobble on rollers with stabilizers, but then you won't need the stabilizers. Why not work on smooth form from the start? Push your cadence up until you get rough, then back off.
Place the rollers next to a solid piece of furniture so you have something to grab. It's also a handy place to set water, a towel, and other items.
They bring the snow you'll see 'til May.
We got a solid twelve inches of April showers Wednesday into Thursday. Then the temperature dropped into the twenties overnight, so the snowbanks stayed in the road and black and gray ice made the lanes more treacherous. I could try to ride in that, but I didn't.
Tonight is even colder, but we did have a little thawing today. If I feel bold, I might give it a shot tomorrow. The forecast holds no really warm weather for the next week.
The refreeze set up the crust, and the old snow had mostly melted away, so it does not open up back-country ski possibilities, either. It just delays the next season's fun.
I could scrape the storage wax off my skate skis...
Tonight I rode my new Minoura rollers for the first time. I retired the rusty Roll Tracs. They sagged. At speed they vibrated so badly they threw the drive belt off. But the new ones intimidated me for the first few minutes. I don't know if the actual roller drums are narrower, but the frame around them is, making it look like I have much less margin for error. The drums roll smoothly, which should be better, but they seemed to magnify my own errors until I'd stayed on long enough to get my chops back.
Rollers have apparently become hip again. I've seen two models with added stability enhancers that claim to let you relax and ride in a more "natural" (read "sloppy") fashion.
Yes, at high cadences you can bounce and wobble. That's the point. Learn not to bounce and wobble on the rollers and you will gain incredible balance and confidence on the road. You can learn not to bounce or wobble on rollers with stabilizers, but then you won't need the stabilizers. Why not work on smooth form from the start? Push your cadence up until you get rough, then back off.
Place the rollers next to a solid piece of furniture so you have something to grab. It's also a handy place to set water, a towel, and other items.
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"I have to be devils advocate here and ask a couple of questions.
Was the problem the stops, or was it that the owner did not properly care for their bike? I understand you sweat, but can you clean it?
Also, was the problem due in part, or wholly, to the fact that you were using aero bars on the bike? Just curious."